


Soul Meets Body

by emeny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:29:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeny/pseuds/emeny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elyse Hawke is having the worst week of her life. The universe is out to get her somehow. But hey she has the greatest friends there to help her, if she'll let them.</p>
<p>She's always welcome at The Hanged Man, but Varric hired a guy she keeps embarassing herself in front of. Fenris doesn't know what to make of her. They'll have to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Not Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction since I was a preteen so this should be fun. Just practicing writing longer fiction, no real plan in mind so let's just go with it and see where it goes, thanks for stopping by!

 

The clock on the wall read 17:08. A whole eight minutes since work had officially ended. Hawke was ready to up and leave the hellhole of an office without a second thought but a condescending cough resounded behind her. Meredith was a terrifying woman, and when she asks to see you in her office you know it’s not going to end well. Hawke twiddled with her thumbs, and sank down in her chair. Avoiding all possible eye contact as Meredith burned holes into her cranium from behind her obnoxiously sized desk. The kind of desk that screamed _I’m more important than you_.

 

            “Miss Hawke,” her voice was prim. Hawke internally flinched at the formality. “How long have you worked for us here?”

 

            “Um, I’d say 3 years or so.” She braved a look behind the desk. Big mistake. Huge. _Abort mission, abort mission._ “Ma’am,” she squeaked out as an afterthought. The line of questioning wasn’t a very encouraging one. She’d had a steady job there at the publishing firm as a desk clerk. It was good. Hawke had worked her way up from being an over-glorified coffee fetcher to an underpaid file sorter and proof reader; who also fetched coffee. But still, the pay was okay. She had enough for rent, and food. She had some to send to her mother. And to the twins to help them through school. That was always enough. The weekends off helped too, but who would complain about that?

 

            “You have been a valuable asset to the office thus far. Your hard work has been much appreciated.” _Uh oh._ Hawke’s stomach fell somewhere into her business casual boots. There’s a but coming up, there’s always a but. “But-“ _Shit._

 

_*_  


            Hawke flung open the door to her apartment. Her keys crashed onto the coffee table, and her face dived between the couch cushions. The bus ride home was depressing. She had spent it banging her head against the window, sulking about losing her damn job, and regretting the office supplies she’d impulsively stuffed in her bag in a fit of mild hysteria.

 

            “Bad day?” Aveline sunk into the couch, next to the crumpled pile that was Hawke. A steaming mug of coffee in her hands, wafting its scent tauntingly through the living room. The cushions emitted a muffled groan.

 

            “You could put it that way, sure.” She rolled herself pathetically onto the floor. “I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

 

            “Fine with me.” A comfortable silence passed between the two of them. Aveline was great in the way that she’d never press on issues. She knew how to stay in her lane, but still be there for people. That’s a skill. Hawke had enough people in her life that always brown nosed into her problems. Her family and friends were all okay elbowing their way into every single little thing. It exhausted her. It could be appreciated, sure. They did always have a way of solving her problems. It’s nice that they care. Yet Hawke dreaded the idea of telling people of the current shit-storm in her life. Mostly dreading the inevitable phone call to her mother. Leandra Hawke is, and always will be a worrywart. She had a very specific disheartened tone she could put in her voice that cuts through Hawke as if she was made of paper. ‘ _Oh Elyse. Oh baby. That’s just terrible…’_

 

“I have something to tell you, actually.” Aveline sipped from one of Hawke's Mabari mugs.

 

            “Yeah? Shoot.”

 

            “Donnic asked me to move in with him.” _Oh._

 

            “Oh.” Hawke’s brain was flat lining.

 

            “I said yes.”

 

            “Wow. Okay.” The only action her brain thought to elicit was nervous laughter, and a congratulations. “I’m so happy for you Aveline. That’s great. Yeah.” Hawke couldn’t afford the apartment by herself. Even when she had her job. There was a tiny voice in the back of Hawke’s head that was screeching, gradually getting louder with every single _fuck you_ the universe seemed to throw at her. _This is fine. This is really fine._ She told herself. “Hey Aveline, can I borrow your car?”

 

 

*

 

 

 _The Hanged Man_ was a local hotspot. The neon sign shone like a beacon in the dark abyss that was Hawke’s day. She parked Aveline’s car around the corner and slipped into the familiar bar. It was still relatively empty inside, the usual boom of customers not showing up until after 9pm. Still a couple more hours until then. The inside was sleek, and modern. Brand new. Varric had put a lot of work into it. The new stage set up was phenomenal. With new equipment; a billion lights hung from the high ceiling, ready for a lively night. Posters were plastered outside and all over the table tops advertising some kind of gig in the near future.

 

            “Hawke!” Isabela waved emphatically from behind the bar. Her lipstick stretching into a cattish grin. Hawke leaned against the counter, smiling back in greeting.

 

            “How goes it?” She tried sounding as casual as possible.

 

            “Sweetie, I haven’t seen you in forever. I’m truly blessed by your presence. And on a weekday too! What have I done to be so lucky?”

 

            “Oh Bela. I simply couldn’t survive without my fix of my favourite pals.”

 

            “You charmer, you. Merrill should be coming later on, you’ll be glad to know. And I think Varric should be coming down soon.”

 

            “He’s in his office at this time?”

 

            “Yeah, he’s having a meeting with the new ‘events manager.’”

 

            “The Hanged Man has an events manager?”

 

            “Oh yeah, Varric is going all out now. Big plans. Always full of ideas that one.” Isabela reached behind the bar, Hawke took one of those posters from her immaculately manicured hand. “This is the start of it all.” She waggled her fingers like some kind of mystic. “Tons of local bands, tons of not so local bands. Gonna draw a big crowd.”

 

            “How’d you snag some of these guys?”

 

            “Our fancy pants new events manager. He works miracles apparently. We’re going to end up being like a real venue. We’ve come a long way from being a seedy bar.” She placed her hand on her chest dramatically, wiping away a fake tear. “Makes me emotional. All we needed was a renovation and to get rid of the bowls of peanuts.”

 

            “Yeah, really does sound like a miracle worker.”

 

            “Seriously, he’s been sent by a godly power. He has the most gorgeous eyes, too.”

 

            “I don’t think you’re supposed to make moves on other employees.”

 

            “Varric doesn’t mind that sort of thing. Besides, this guy is a bit too serious. Serious but gorgeous,” she sighs. “He’s a freelancer anyways, so don’t challenge my ethics. You have your uptight office policy on your brain again.”

 

            “You got me.” Hawke threw up her hands in mock surrender. She concentrated extra hard so they didn’t shake from the pure stress coursing through her veins.

 

            “You want a drink, hon? It’s on me this time, because I’m such a saint.”

 

            “I can’t. I borrowed Aveline’s car. I must abide by the law, unfortunately.”

 

            “How did you manage that? Big girl is very protective of her wheels.”

 

            “I asked nicely. I’ve got some charm too you know.”

 

            “Ah yes, how could I forget?” A few moments passed as Isabela served a customer. All smiles and professional grace. When she returned she copied how Hawke leaned against the bar awkwardly. Stiff and unassuming. The barwoman chuckled at the way her friend spaced out so easily, coughing to regain her attention. “Planning on staying long?”

 

            “I hadn’t decided. I have nowhere to be tomorrow so I guess it doesn’t matter.” A non-committal shrug covered her hint at her current state of unemployment. She winced at the word as it passed through her head. Negative thoughts circled like hungry sharks. _Unemployed. Homeless. Totally fucked._

 

            “Listen. Have that drink. I’ll drive you home when my shift finishes.” Her hand patted Hawke’s affectionately. “You look like you need it.”

 

            She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Isabela operated the bar like a pro. She worked the cocktail shaker as if she were a true artist making a masterpiece. She said she would surprise Hawke with one of her new ‘creations.’ Isabela’s creations were usually delicious, so there were no complaints. She poured the orange concoction into a glass, finishing it off with a lemon and a tiny beach umbrella. Someone came and rested against the bar, gently bumping Hawke’s shoulder.

 

            “A glass of your finest, if you please, Isabela,” he said. His blond hair tucked into a ponytail, a tired smile directed at the two ladies.

 

            “Anders, long time no see. My gosh, this is almost like a reunion. I’m downright spoilt.” Isabela slid the drink over to Hawke.

 

            “Hawke! I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age. Work been keeping you busy?” Anders stretched his slender arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze.

 

            “Yeah, I guess.” Hawke took a long sip of the fruity drink, the tropical taste sent her mind to somewhere nicer for a brief reprieve.

 

            “You’ve all been too busy with work, work, work… You and your damn real people jobs.” Isabela pouted.

 

            “Sorry Bela, I’ve been trying to swing by,” he said. “I just finished at the clinic and I’m dead on my feet.” He eyed the beverage in jealousy. “What’s this? Can I have one of these Bela?”

 

            “Of course you can, it’s my new concoction! Think I’m going to call it a ‘ _Rivaini Sunrise.’”_

 

            “Ooh nice. That has a ring to it.” He pulled out his wallet as Hawke downed the last drops of her own _Rivaini Sunrise_. The alcohol seeped into her quickly. _Thank god._

 

            “Hey guys,” a tiny voice called from behind them, her hand raised in a small wave. Her green eyes lit up at the site of Hawke. She practically skipped over and pulled her into a tight, suffocating hug. “Oh my goodness Hawke. I’ve missed you. It’s been weeks!” Merrill babbled excitedly. Sweet, sweet Merrill. She pulled back and stared warmly at her friend, before worry knitted itself between her brows. “It’s a weekday, you shouldn’t be out so late!”

 

            “Merrill, it’s fine. Really.” Hawke tried to brush her off and avoid eye contact with the shorter woman. Merrill, in particular, had a way of seeing through her bullshit. She was always so nice you’d accidentally let your guard down. _This is always a mistake_. Merrill can and will kill you with kindness.

 

            “Is everything all right? You shouldn’t be drinking either. Isn’t it busy at the office?”

 

            Hawke let out an extended breath that was like a teapot that came to boil. She wracked her brain for an excuse to act as an eject button for the conversation. There wasn’t one. Running occurred to her as a plan, but with her current level of luck Hawke felt that she would fall and break her face. She felt the worried gazes of her friends weigh down on her. Until she caved.

 

            “I’ve been fired.” Hawke attempted to sound unfazed. Merrill enveloped her in another embrace. A lump built up in her throat that she swallowed down with all her willpower. Anders patted her on the back sympathetically, sliding his drink over to her. Hawke took out the straw and the mini umbrella, tipped back and chugged the cocktail.

 

            “What happened?” _The dreaded question._

 

            “They ‘no longer required’ me. They had to lay off some people, I guess I was a casualty. Someone they wouldn’t miss.” She swayed on her feet slightly. Another thing about Isabela’s creations: they’re strong enough to strip paint off the walls.

 

            “Oh sweetie I’m so sorry. Let me get you another drink, it’s on me again.”

 

            “No, no, no. Bela. I can pay. All right? I can. So I will.” She dug into her purse for her wallet, seeing the staplers she had stolen from the office. “Oh for god’s sake.” She pulled them out in quick succession. Five of them lined up on the bar, all labelled with room numbers of the office building, and a handy ‘ _do not steal me’_ warning in small font. She grabbed her wallet, and slammed down the money for her next drink.

 

            “Um, Hawke?” Anders and the girls watched on in concern. “Why do you have so many staplers?” He considered his words, deciding to rephrase. “Why do you have any staplers at all?”

 

            “Well,” she began, not quite sure how to continue. No. She couldn’t save this situation. “Maybe- yeah. Maybe my impulse control isn’t so good.”

 

            “You stole all these from the office?” Anders was incredulous. It was excessive.

 

            “This is every stapler from the 8th floor.” Very excessive.

 

            “Hawke! You have to give them back!” Merrill scolded her.

 

            “Is everything all right over here?” An unmistakeable deep voice. The heads of the group each turned to Varric. Hawke mentally kicked herself. He was going to have an absolute field day. He stood with a lean man, dressed smartly in black. His hair was a ghostly white and his chin had a tattoo running down beneath his collar. Both of them wore bewildered expressions. Hawke realised just how insane she must have looked. Approximately seven seconds of silence passed.

 

            “Everything here is just fine. Thanks Varric, but we’re all totally cool beans.” Hawke slowly scooped the staplers back into her bag. “I just- I really need a cigarette.” She turned on her heel, speed walking to the exit.

 

            “I thought you quit!” The dwarf called after her.

            “This is a very dire situation!”

 

*

 

The usual nightly flow of patrons were beginning to roll up to the bar. It had started to rain at some point, the smell of wet concrete hung in the air. Rock music poured from the open doors, she felt the bass through the wall against her back. The Hanged Man was coming to life. Hawke huddled under the overhang digging through her bag for her emergency cigarettes. She held one between her lips beginning the long and fruitless search for her lighter somewhere among the staplers. She swore to herself under her breath. Enveloped in her search she didn’t feel a quiet presence settle off to the side of her. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the black and white of the man’s frame.

 

            “Do you need a light?” He asked. His voice a level, soothing sound. Hawke turned to him surprised. His large green eyes flitted between her and the bag of staplers. _What a fucking stupid situation._ She thought.

 

            “Sure. Thanks,” she said. He passed her a metal lighter, on the side of it was some kind of an engraving that was scratched out. Strange. She sparked up, passing it back to his open palm. She promptly let the nicotine fill her lungs. A euphoric rush going to her head. The cool air worked in sobering her but the smoke intoxicated her again in a different way. Calm was washing over her.

 

The two of them smoked in silence, a short distance away from one another. She dared a glance at the stranger. _This was the smancy new events manager?_ She squinted at him as he pensively watched people across the street. Isabela was right. His eyes were beautiful. He frowned as he stomped out his cigarette. Hands buried in his pockets, his lanky form retreated inside.  The heels of his shoes clicked on the pavement, he moved with poise, his gait had a refined swagger to it. Ash burnt at Hawke’s fingers. _Shit._ Her wandering mind wasted one of her smokes and probably erased her fingerprints. Just great.


	2. The Middle

Fenris shivered from the sudden change in temperature as he re-entered the building, back into the warmth. The lively bunch at the bar had disappeared upstairs. Isabela was now swamped by patrons in their place. When he first laid eyes upon the group, he was departing from Varric’s office up on the second floor. Nothing expressly out of the ordinary. The dwarf was staring pointedly at the group of strangers as they both descended the stairs. A blonde woman in a blazer was chugging a cocktail while her friends watched on, seemingly in mild concern. That could still be considered normal for a bar, but then she started pulling… staplers? Staplers, out of her bag. Varric swore under his breath, something along the lines of ‘ _well this shit is weird_.’ He didn’t sound surprised though. The pair managed to catch a last snippet of conversation as they approached.

 

            “This is every stapler from the 8th floor.” The woman stated flatly. She swayed precariously, electing to turn her eyes and attention to the ceiling instead of the people around her.

 

            “Hawke! You have to give them back!” Another woman shouted, this one shorter with darker hair. She had disappointment laced in her tone. Fenris quirked a brow.

 

            “Is everything all right here?” Varric spoke up. He had approached them with familiarity, his voice held a level of amusement. All of the strangers’ heads automatically snapped to the two of them. The business casual blonde blinked at them, her blue eyes making awkward eye contact with them. No one elected to break the extended silence, so it felt almost eternal. Her lips formed into a tight line.

 

            “Everything here is just fine. Thanks Varric, but we’re all totally cool beans,” she said. Sounding as blasé as possible, and failing. Who even says cool beans? She clumsily started piling the staplers into her bag, saying something about cigarettes as she hightailed to the exit.

 

            “I thought you quit!” Varric yelled across the room.

 

            “This is a very dire situation!” She spun back to shout, walking backwards she nearly knocked over a stool as she disappeared outside.

 

            “Is Hawke on crack or something?” The others frowned at Varric.

 

            “Not quite,” the barmaid eyed the doorway. “She just got fired.”

 

            “Ah… shit.”

 

            “I don’t think she’s taking it well,” Captain Obvious chimed in. He slouched against the bar, his hair in a characteristic ponytail. The barmaid cracked open a beer sliding it over to him.

 

            “She didn’t get fired for stealing did she?” Varric mused. Fenris snorted quietly to himself. The image of the staplers still fresh in his mind with the absurdity of the situation. Who even does that?

 

            “Nope. The staplers were the result of the firing. You know what she’s like when she’s stressed.” The barmaid smiled sadly. “She said they were making cutbacks at the office. Yeah, she was a cut. Poor flower.”

 

            “That’s harsh, she’s been there like 3 years. Should I… I don’t know, go talk to her?”

 

            “Let her have a moment to herself, Varric.”

 

            “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right.” He absentmindedly scratched at his stubble. “Fenris, I should probably introduce you. This lot are crazy as a bag of cats, not that I need to tell you now... Eh well, they’re always hanging around here. They’re some familiar faces for you.” He landed a solid clap on his back.

 

            “You love us really, Varric. Who else keeps you entertained?” She winked. “Besides, I work here. You pay me to hang around.”

 

            “Yeah, yeah, and that’s my mistake,” he waved his hand flippantly. “The wench here is Isabela.”

 

            “Nice to meet you Fenris. Hope we can get along,” another wink. Fenris nodded to her in acknowledgement uttering a brief _it’s a pleasure_. Isabela seemed satisfied by that. Very satisfied. “Tsk, tsk, Varric. A wench? You have no clue how to treat a lady.”

 

            “Tell that to Bianca,” the ponytailed man swigged from his bottle.

 

            “You’re hilarious, Blondie.”

 

            “I’m Anders, if we’re doing introductions.” He extended his hand to Fenris for a firm shake. “Welcome to the asylum.”

 

            “Well, that’s comforting.” Sarcasm easily seeped from Fenris, it might as well have been his second language. What had he gotten himself into? The people are all, how should he say it… _eccentric_.

 

            “Don’t listen to him, he’s a drama queen.” Isabela excused herself with a wave. The bar was filling up so she was obligated to actually do her job. Blasphemy. Anders gave an indignant huff about her remark.

 

            “I’m Merrill, glad to meet you,” the small woman gave a bright smile. She had an unassuming presence about her. “Are you staying long?” Fenris looked at his watch, he felt like excusing himself. It was just a gut feeling that the bunch of them were crazy. Maybe only mildly crazy, or maybe lively was a better word?

 

            “I was going to head out.”

 

            “Come on, why not stay for a drink?” Varric slapped him on the shoulder in encouragement.

 

            “I have to drive.”

 

            “Ooh, have a coffee then. Varric has a nice machine upstairs. It makes fantastic cappuccinos.” Merrill smiled enthusiastically, her eyes warm and persuasive. She listed a frightening variety of other beverages in the effort to make him stay. She had a face that was hard to say no to. Troublesome. At least the lot of them were welcoming, he supposed. He hadn’t been in Kirkwall long, so he didn’t know anyone outside of his work.

 

            “All right. I’ll stay for a while. Just going to have a smoke then.” He scratched his nose, motioning his thumb to the exit.

 

            “Okay, we’ll be back up in my office.”

 

            Outside the air was cool, Fenris caught his breath again. It was drizzling, instead of being an annoyance it was refreshing. The blonde was fumbling with her bag. Her cigarette balanced precariously between her lips, still unlit. Her eyebrows furrowed with effort. She huffed out during her struggle, in her own world. Sounded like she’d had the worst day. Fenris heard the others refer to her as Hawke. A strange name for a strange character. She was a bit of a sad sight, he felt some pity towards her. He dug his pack of smokes out of his pocket, he turned the metal lighter over in his palm, the surface cold against his skin. The scratched out wolf stared at him.

 

            “Do you need a light?” He extended the lighter towards her. She seemed surprised by his presence, probably still thinking she was alone. She cradled her bag protectively. Her vibrant eyes flickered between his face and his hand.

 

            “Sure. Thanks.” She had a silvery voice, it complimented the sound of the rain hitting the pavement. Tranquil. She inspected the engraving, tracing it with her finger. It was like she’d zoned out again, she had to shake her head to free herself from the reverie. Fenris’ hand was outstretched patiently as she finished with his lighter; she briefly acknowledged him in thanks before her imagination got lost in the smoke. Well she had a lot on her mind, he supposed. Perhaps too many thoughts to sort through and organise in the silence. The way that she sighed was as if she hadn’t breathed all day and she was finally coming back to life. Fenris tore his eyes away from the stranger, it felt like a private moment he was invading. He hurried himself to leave. To head back inside to the lively bunch of friends.

 

 

*

 

 

Varric’s ‘office’ was technically his apartment. It was modern and cosy like the rest of the place. He had these super comfy leather couches. Hawke was in love with them and she pretty much melted into it once she headed up there. She had kicked her boots off and stretched out on it.

 

            “Get your dirty feet off of there!” Varric yelled from the kitchenette, he had a sixth sense for these things. Anders sniggered at her from his armchair, she stuck out her tongue at him in reply. She actually swung her feet down to the floor as requested. She wasn’t raised in a barn. Well, she grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere Ferelden, so sure technically she _spent time_ in a barn. Okay, a lot of time in a barn, and adjacent to a barn… but the point is she has manners. That’s what matters.

 

            “Play nice.” Merrill said. She plonked a couple of piping hot cups onto the coffee table. Perfectly crafted espressos, steaming tauntingly. Hawke grabbed for a cup, the dark liquid swirled hypnotically. She greedily inhaled the aroma as Merrill sank down next to her. “You said no sugar, right Fenris?” The name floated around in Hawke’s head as she absorbed it into memory. The slim man sat bolt upright on the opposite couch. His shoulders tight, and his expression still stoic. He wasn’t warmed up to the group. Hawke hoped the group wouldn’t actually suffocate the poor man.

 

            “Yes, that’s right. Thank you.” So polite. He cradled the warmth of his own cup delicately before sipping. Anders pulled a face of mild disgust.

 

            “Not you too.”

 

            “What?” Fenris quirked a brow.

 

            “I thought Hawke was the only one that enjoyed that sludge.”

 

            “It’s only coffee. Besides, I don’t think anyone asked your opinion?” Hawke spluttered at his bluntness.

 

            “Well, _excuse me._ Enjoy your fancy espresso then mister high and mighty.” Fenris’ brows pulled together in annoyance.

 

            “What happened to playing nice?” Varric said. He brought over the other coffees, finally settling next to Fenris.

 

            “I’m always nice.” Anders was indignant again. Fenris sneered.

 

            “Sure, and you definitely didn’t just have a bad day at the office?” Varric joked. Hawke pulled a face, downing the last of her cup. Dark and bitter, like her current state of life. Also overdramatic, apparently.

 

            “You don’t have to be refined to drink espresso or black coffee y’know Anders? So maybe chill out a little,” she said. “I drink it, and I’d still chew on the granules left in the coffee filter just to get the caffeine.” Anders was _disgusted_. A small smile played at the corners of Hawke’s lips. Fenris chuckled at her, he was settling into the background of conversation.

 

            “That’s kind of gross.”

 

            “Never said I was classy.”

 

            “You don’t really do that, do you Hawke?” Merrill was moderately concerned.

 

            “No, don’t worry. I’m just kidding.”

 

            “Wouldn’t surprise me if you did.” Varric chided.

 

            “I’ll have you know Aveline cleans the coffee pot diligently, so I don’t get the oppourtunity.” The current state of her living arrangements flooded back, and the image of the soon to be fleeting roof of her apartment flashed in her head with what sounded like the Kill Bill sirens.

 

            “Earth to Hawke?” Varric clicked his fingers in front of her face.

 

            “What? Sorry.”

 

            “Is there something else wrong?”

 

            “What? No,” she could feel the escalating pity in the room. They could read her like a book. She was as easy to read as the Very Hungry Caterpillar.

 

            “Seriously, what is it now?” Hawke’s pride was holding her back from saying. She couldn’t stand feeling this useless.

 

            “Here’s the thing.” Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. “Aveline is moving in with Donnic. I don’t have enough to cover the rent by myself, so I guess I’m pretty much homeless.”

 

            “Oh, Hawke…” Merrill stroked her hair gently. Fenris couldn’t believe the amount of shit luck a single human being could have in twenty four hours. How is it possible? Hawke was well on her way to rock bottom. Or maybe she had already hit it? She was blocking off feeling too much of anything so who even knows.

 

            “Can’t you- can’t you find someone on craigslist or something?” Anders said.

 

            “I don’t have a job and my bank account is almost down to double digits. I don’t have anything to help out my mother and the twins now, let alone myself. Plus craigslist has a bunch of weirdos. I’m not dealing with that.”

 

            “I found Isabela on craigslist.” Merrill pouted.

 

            “Well Isabela is a weirdo, but we love her.”

 

            “You do know you can just ask for help, right? We’re not just going to leave you on your ass.” Varric scolded her. He was a self-righteous bastard. A self-righteous bastard who was always right, unfortunately.

 

            “You’re always sticking your neck out for me.”

 

            “It doesn’t matter. Come and work here until you get back on your feet. You know your way around a bar.”

 

            “I can’t, you even got me the job at the office, I can’t keep getting handouts from you like this.”

 

            “It’s not a handout. Besides, what’s the alternative? Do you really want Gamlen to find you another job?”

 

            “Ugh, fair point. I’m not going within a hundred feet of the fucking docks. Never again.” She could still smell the fish, and feel the distinctive ache in her spine from lifting dodgy crates off of even dodgier boats.

 

            “It’s for until you’re back on your feet.”

 

            “You could always come live with me?” Anders offered.

 

            “Thanks, but your cat kind of hates me.”

 

            “He doesn’t!”

 

            “He really, really does. I’m not going to make you choose between Ser Pounce and me. That’s unfair.”

 

            “Well come and live with me and Isabela until you find somewhere!” Merrill clapped her hands together decisively. “Our couch is open and comfortable. We would love to have you!”

 

            “I really don’t know what to say…”

 

            “Say yes you dumbass.”

 

            “Alright. Okay, fine.”

 

 

*

 

 

Thankfully the conversation turned away from being all about Hawke. Friendly, casual banter was much appreciated. She felt nauseated thinking about the whole situation, but people had her back. They suffocated her with their care. She wished that she could stand on her own, being independent is when she is happiest, but she was stuck for now. Although she wasn’t stuck alone.

 

 The time was a mystery but it was pitch black out on the streets, the street lamps were like stepping stones in the dark. The bar was still in full swing but Isabela tagged out with another bartender. Merrill chatted away to them both as they made it around the building to the parking lot and Aveline’s awaiting car. They packed themselves into the small car, ready to go. In the distance Hawke spotted Fenris. He zipped up a leather jacket. His white hair disappeared into a helmet and he mounted a bike. It revved to life. She watched him speed away past her, disappearing into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to be disciplined at keeping this up but patience may be required
> 
> Thanks for sticking around though!
> 
> Criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> Chapter title song: The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
> 
> See you next time around!
> 
> \- emeny

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far. Yeah I don't have a real plan for this story, just some vague ideas. Not sure when I'll update but I hope it'll be soon, if my motivation permits me.
> 
> Criticism would be much appreaciated, I don't often share my work so I don't get much feedback. I don't really spot my problems with tense and stuff, so yeah.
> 
> Main title and chapter title are both songs because I'm unoriginal like that aha, this will probably be a recurring thing. There's no deeper meaning to it other than the titles felt right at the time? Cool.
> 
> Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie, and I'm Not Okay by My Chemical Romance.
> 
> Thanks guys!
> 
> -emeny


End file.
